White Fire
by Fractal Dawn
Summary: Sometimes the only difference between a soldier and a Herald is a Gift and a blue eyed, white being who will be the first to say he's not a horse.


**Disclaimer:** Velgarth and any recognizable attributes thereof belong solely to Mercedes Lackey. Unfortunately, I do not answer to that name and am remarkably lacking in the funds that would result from owning them. Any other odd characters, inconsistencies of plot with canon, or other such things are solely Lee's fault and she will… probably hide rather than accept responsibility.

**Notes:** …Hi. This is my first attempt at a Valdemar fanfic. I have another one, in which I save my favorite minor characters from death or doom, but… the original charas invaded my private view of Velgarth and were just too pretty to resist. Comments… welcome, desired, and will be accepted in exchange for the cookies on the platter over there. I don't have muses, just overly arrogant characters. Mostly not the ones this story is about. Mostly the second generation… shuts up now

_**White Fire**_

**_Prologue: Early Gifting_**

The ten year old boy stood very calmly in the center of the room as he listened to the debate. He had very light brown hair, almost to the point of losing its color. His eyes were icy blue, and displayed far more intelligence and knowledge than most boys his age tended to have. At a slight sigh, he glanced to his twin sister and smiled ever so slightly. Her eyes were darker, her hair truly brown, and her face more inclined to smile, but anyone looking at them could tell they were siblings.

And noble-born siblings, at that. Both had pale skin and refined, heart-shaped faces. If his hair was a little long and he got called "girlish" for it, the little boy never reacted. Or rather, never reacted at once. Oddly, most of the children who tried to pick on him tended to have odd accidents—usually intricate set-ups, but how they had missed the signs was always beyond the adults left to clean up the mess.

"But the boy's the only heir! He _can't_ just…"

_:Is your father always this tiresome? And can I please just come and nip him in the elbow a few times:_

Kenwyn's lips twitched only slightly. He was an odd boy—too composed. _:No, Mali. Let the adults deal with him.:_ Kaimana, sitting quietly by in a corner of the room, tilted her head questioningly. He shook her head at him—a message that he'd tell her later.

The King's Own sighed tiredly, and Kenwyn felt a wave of compassion for him. Everyone knew the Queen was having a baby—and Kenwyn was acutely aware she was having a baby somewhere else in the Palace… _Healer's Collegium_, he gathered after a moment of searching thought. And the King was, seemingly, a little panicky. "My lord, your son has been Chosen, and there really is very little that…"

"Very little that _what_! You can't expect me to make my daughter the heir, can you?"

Kaimana looked a little alarmed at that thought. Kenwyn decided to speak up. "She can't."

Both men turned to look at him. The King's Own leaned down and said rather gently, "What do you mean, son?" Kenwyn felt the faint touch to his mind and, unlike usual, allowed it.

"Gifts," Kenwyn said simply. He waiting patiently as he felt the information lifted from his own conscience to the Herald's.

The King's Own, looking more than a little startled, pulled back from Kenwyn's mind. He glanced up at the boy's father. "Even if he weren't Chosen, my lord, I'd suggest leaving him with us. He's an incredibly powerful Mindspeaker, and…"

"May I go to the Library?" Kenwyn was more than a little bored with this discussion.

Herald Brendin glanced at him and nodded. He said rather dryly, "I assume you can find your way."

Kenwyn smiled faintly—his Gift had its uses.

* * *

Kaimana was nearly as excited as if she had been the one Chosen. "Kenwyn! This is wonderful! You've got a _Companion_. Do you know your eyes are the same color as hers? Oh, she's beautiful… will you take me for a ride? Please?"

Only his twin would be tolerated in such a mood. Anyone else, and Kenwyn would likely have hit them. Hard. "I'm too young. Or the Herald thinks so."

Kaimana huffed. "Well, you're _ten_. You're plenty old!"

Kenwyn shook his head. "Most Chosen are twelve, thirteen."

At that she couldn't help the slight pause. While believing her brother capable of taking care of himself—not including remembering to eat when he was reading—she feared a little for him in the company of big people that old. "Well…You're very smart. And you know everything."

Sighing, Kenwyn tried to explain. "I just hear too much. Do you remember when we were sick when we were five?" He deliberately brought the incident to mind. Both children had been struck by the spots—a particularly bad case of them, and for a while they had nearly been given up for doomed. It was after recovering that Kenwyn discovered he knew _everything_ happening in the family Keep.

She nodded. "You said later Father wanted to just have another child and not worry about it, but Mother was too weak. And then I got better before you did." Sighing, she reached for her twin's hand. _:I try to make Mother happy, when she's feeling low like that…:_

Kenwyn nodded slightly. "Well, I hear most things now. I can see things, too… Usually it hits me when I'm not thinking about it. 'swhy I'm Chosen. I need the training." He rolled his eyes. "And I hope that they'll teach me to shield. I don't want to hear _anything_ like Orali and Rel ever again."

His twin had a confused look on her face. "Orali's one of the maids, no?" She tried to remember the second name. "And Rel's… one of the stablehands? Aren't they handfasted?"

Kenwyn closed his eyes. Kaimana _was_ the dominant twin—but he was forced into growing up a little too quickly. "Yes. They're having a baby." He shuddered. There were times his eavesdropping got traumatic. Thankfully Kaimana hadn't been around at the time…

Suddenly he raised his head. "Not the only ones."

Kaimana all but bounced on her feet. "The Queen?"

"A princess." Kaimana squealed happily, Mali's echoing jubilation ringing in his head. Kenwyn groaned. _Females_…

* * *

Brendin rubbed his temples tiredly. He pitied young Kenwyn, living with a thickskulled idiot like this one… and the girl, too. Got his pity. _:She's an Empath, you know.:_ Only long practice allowed the King's Own to conceal his surprise.

_:Will she be Chosen, too, then:_ Not that he hoped for much of an answer. Companions were notoriously closemouthed on some subjects.

_:No. Mali informs us she's a Healer as well. She'll be a MindHealer, no doubt. I think you may have to explain to him just what power his son has.:_ Always constant, Narin was… and always ready to make sure the various idiosyncrasies or scrapes the various Heralds got into didn't drive _him_ over the edge. And at this moment, that was mainly the King and his incredibly uncharacteristic… fussing over the Queen and their child.

"My lord Izotzar, I entirely understand your consternation. However, your son has remarkable power at his control. First and foremost, he is a MindSpeaker, a strong one." The man clearly did not understand. "And from what I gathered, he's picking up any unshielded thoughts, including ones entirely unsuited for a child of ten."

Incomprehension was the only reaction in the minor lord's face. "I don't see what any of this has to do with my son not being available to inherit the estates! What am I supposed to do, create an heir out of thin air! You…"

Brendin tuned out the rest of the speech, patiently waiting for the man to run out of things to say. Coming from a family of farmers, in which everyone contributed their share no matter what the age, he didn't entirely understand how this man could place very little value on his son—clearly bright, even without the extra information stored in his mind from his MindSpeech—beyond being a body to inherit a name.

Suddenly Narin was there again, jubilation in his mindvoice. _:Chosen:_

Brendin came to attention immediately. _:The Queen:_

As the word spread, Brendin could Feel the sheer elation rippling through the Heraldic population at the palace. Deciding he'd had enough of this man, the King's Own cut him off. "Sir, there is truly nothing to be done, nor anything I could wish done. Companion Mali made her Choice, and that is that."

"I will not stand for this!"

"If you will excuse me, my duty to the King calls." After a moment's consultation with Narin, he added, "I must attend him, as the birth of our princess will likely leave him somewhat distracted. The conversation may, perhaps, be continued later." Later, after there was no going back…

And the boy would make a good Herald one day.

* * *

_Ten years later…_

Kenwyn Izotzar was dripping sweat as he finally lowered his sword, still eyeing Geranick suspiciously. The man was somewhat older than Kenwyn's twenty years, but not by much. _The one bad thing about a young Weaponsmaster,_ Kenwyn mused, _is that even full, experienced Heralds stand a good chance of humiliation._

_:It's good for you. Your ego needs managing.:_

Kenwyn ignored Mali's snippy comment as Geranick stepped back, breathing hard. "Still in shape, I see, Kenwyn." He'd been in the year-group ahead of Kenwyn in the Collegium.

"Circuits aren't restful," Kenwyn retorted. He shook his hair—plastered to his face due to sweat—out of his eyes. He was still the best fencer in the Circle, clearly, even though he could occasionally be overcome by someone with skill, weight, and enough acrobatics to kick him in the stomach.

_:You are far too smug. I should drop you in the mud one day while riding, you know that:_

_:Do that, Mali, and I will see to it that your life is made miserable for the next three months.:_

The impression he got was of fluttering eyelashes. _:You wouldn't do that to your darling Companion, now would you:_

_:In an instant.:_ Geranick nodded, unaware of the silent sniping between Companion and Chosen. "Don't go getting yourself killed on the Border, now. We need your MindSpeaking and FarSight."

Kenwyn smiled ruefully. "I'm alternating Border and spying for a while, supposedly." His deep voice was quiet. He was no longer the small, somewhat scrawny boy he'd been. If his hair was still light and his eyes the same shade as his Companion's, only icier, he was now taller than most Heralds, standing a solid three inches over six feet. He was still slender, but five years of being a Herald had trained his strength.

Much as he hated to give Mali fodder for her claims about his ego, he had to admit… there weren't many as strong as he among the Heralds.

"You have your assignment?"

Kenwyn nodded. "Liaison for a Company. Versatile, and mostly cavalry, I believe. Their Captain's an Ashkevron, at least, so I will assume so."

Geranick laughed a little. "Oh yes, the Ashkevrons and their horses. To be fair, all those horses need is a mind capable of human thought and they'd likely be Companions. Well bred, all of them."

A dry smile touched Kenwyn's lips. "They, however, _are_ horses," he remarked, echoing the constant reminder from Companions.

"Do I hear someone insulting my family's activities?" A young woman's voice came from just behind Kenwyn.

"Rosalia, you're totally insensitive to intonation, you know that? Although given that he was more likely insulting your precious Cerila…"

Kenwyn turned to see a pair of identical, auburn-haired girls. They looked a couple years younger than he was. One was in a red-brown uniform that almost exactly matched her hair—_poor girl_, he thought—and the other was tugging self-consciously on her pristine white uniform. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Herald-Tr… er, Herald Rosalia Ashkevron, sir," she introduced herself, correctly interpreting his silent query. She smiled a little abashedly. _Just thrown into Whites…_ "I'm… I don't really have a Circuit, I think," she admitted softly. "They want me on the Border because I can fight."

_:Chosen:_

Kenwyn blinked. "A pleasure," he said shortly. He never said more than he had to. _:What now, Mali:_

_:The Circle wants you to act as the mentor to a newly promoted Herald.:_ Mali paused, assessing his situation. _:That one, in fact.:_

_:Family connection:_ Even in Mindspeech, Kenwyn avoided extra words. At Mali's assent, including some rambling dialogue she'd seemingly had from Cerila—a nice, _steady_ Companion, Kenwyn remembered with a touch of envy—he replied to the girl, "So I hear."

She blinked at him in astonishment. "Wha—oh." Her eyes went blank for a moment before refocusing on him in surprise and a little consideration.

The other girl shook her head. "Honestly, I don't understand you people, all trying to get yourselves killed…" Flinching a little from Kenwyn's slightly cold look, she hastily explained, "My twin's a Herald on the Border, and my older brother there… you can hardly expect me to be unconcerned!"

Rosalia, waving goodbye to Geranick (who had moved to a very young girl who had just entered), sighed. "Alyssa, I've told you before, it's what I do. As for our brother…" She made a face.

"He's just crazy."

"Pretty much."

"If you met him, you'd know." That was, seemingly, addressed to Kenwyn.

"Nuts, sometimes…"

"Devoted sibling, though. Used to…"

"Beat up Matte when he picked on us, and…"

"Always getting into trouble with Father…"

"He's the best rider of us."

"He always says any Ashkevron who _can't_ ride…"

"…must have been drowned at birth," the girls chorused.

Kenwyn didn't miss a beat. "He's a Captain, then?"

Rosalia nodded with a slight snort. "I don't know how he managed it. He's too willing to ignore orders, so he probably won't ever get another promotion, but… he's good, I'll give him that. Best swordsman I've seen in a long time." She beamed. "He taught us a lot."

Alyssa smiled a little. "I'm just waiting for him to do something incredibly heroic so I can do my Masterwork on him for my Bardic training."

As Rosalia told her that he probably wouldn't appreciate it and would likely skewer her for such action, Kenwyn smiled slightly to feel his sister's warm presence behind him. "Tell me, Kenwyn, do you have some new, unknown Gift for finding every pair of twins in Haven?"

The girls looked at Kaimana in confusion as she walked up, slipping an arm around his waist. "Who are you?" and "How did you…" were the simultaneous questions before the girls looked at each other and smiled ruefully.

"Healer Kaimana," Kenwyn's twin identified herself with amusement lacing her tone, although her green robes had already identified _that_. "I would have known anyway, seeing as he's _my_ twin."

The girls smiled delightedly and immediately struck up a conversation with Kaimana. Quietly, however, in the back of his mind, he heard a soft query. _:When do you leave for the border, brother-mine:_

_:In a week, and with that child:_ the thought tagged to identify Rosalia, _:in tow.:_

Kaimana gave him a quick glance. _:Hardly a child, Kenwyn.:_ His MindSpeech was powerful enough to let them talk, as she had a drop of it herself—enough to reply if contact were initiated.

_:She can't know what she's going up against.:_

_:She's only two years younger than you or me.:_

_:She's still a child, and going to the Border.:_ "I have to go change," he said abruptly, leaving the womenfolk to talk about…whatever they were talking about. For all that she tried to appear caustic and collected, he could tell she was far softer than she seemed—and yet probably strong enough to take it. _This is what I get for being jaded too young,_ he thought privately, not letting Mali hear his musings. _What kind of war are we in, to be sending children to die?_

He wished he knew.


End file.
